


with every guitar string scar on my hand

by rainbowrabblerouser



Series: written because I'm lonely, melancholic, gay, yearning, aching, and pining and– [14]
Category: Handsome Devil (2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowrabblerouser/pseuds/rainbowrabblerouser
Summary: When they have to write an essay titled "Lover" and Conor realizes that he doesn't know how he can possibly write it, Ned suggests that they form a fake relationship for "artistic inspiration" and Conor has to face the fact that he doesn't want to pretend.
Relationships: Conor Masters/Ned Roche
Series: written because I'm lonely, melancholic, gay, yearning, aching, and pining and– [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712041
Comments: 2
Kudos: 96





	with every guitar string scar on my hand

**Author's Note:**

> "Lover" - Taylor Swift
> 
> "EARFQUAKE" - Tyler the Creator
> 
> (aka the two best songs about yearning, pining, aching, longing, etc.)

Mr. Sherry assigns a Valentine’s Day-themed essay, but Conor doesn’t have a fucking clue what the fuck he was going to write. Expressing himself wasn’t really his thing if you didn’t count rugby, guitar, or punches. 

So he was at a loss here. And Mr. Sherry had been expecting a really good essay from him since his perspective would have been different from everyone elses. Well, almost.

“Ned, you got to help me here.”

Conor’s pacing around their shared dorm room, running his hands through his hair. He had just gotten out of the shower after practice, but he could feel himself starting to sweat again, but with nervousness instead. 

What the fuck was he going to do now that he didn’t have a big competition to look forward to? Do his homework? And an assignment like this? 

Ugh, it was like the universe hated him.

“Look, I can’t play rugby. It’s not my–”

“–team I know, Ned. What I mean is that I need help on Sherry’s essay,” Conor was still pacing, but now he was fidgeting with his hands, a habit he thought he had grown out of when he became a teenager.

Then, before he knew it, Ned was by his side, taking both of his hands to stop him. 

“You’re doing it again, Conor,” He loved the way Ned said his name so softly. “You can’t play guitar if you already have scars from this. Scars are reserved for guitar and rugby. Now, let’s just start thinking of ideas first. Let’s go.”

Conor lets himself be pulled along by the hand as Ned takes him to their hideout. 

When Ned wakes up the next morning, he realizes that they had stayed the night and had fallen asleep in the hideout. Together. On the couch. Fuck.

Conor had his head resting on his chest and his arm around Ned’s waist. He could feel his face heating up because of how close they were. It’s not like Ned was embarrassed; he just felt like he’s silly for wanting more of this. And his longing had finally culminated to this. 

Conor was probably not going to say anything about it. Or he would never stop asking him. That was the dichotomy of his speech pattern: either silence or unsustained questions. Ned would be lying if he said that he was bothered by it one bit. 

It was Saturday so they had the rest of the weekend to work on the essay and do whatever. The essay is due next Friday, but Ned guessed that Conor probably wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible. 

Usually, they spent Saturdays together– playing guitar, taking walks, going out. But Ned could tell that Conor would probably want to stay in today. Maybe they could do something tomorrow.

Ned fell back asleep in Conor’s arms and enjoyed the quiet.

When he wakes up again, Conor’s gone. 

Fuck. Had he been embarrassed? Was he ashamed? Was he upset? Was he–

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” He heard Conor’s voice behind him.

Then, there’s a cup of coffee in his hands and a jacket on his shoulders. It was Conor’s sports jacket with his name on it. He rarely wore it since he was always lending it to Ned whenever his jacket was in the wash. “I don’t wanna hear you complain about how cold it is,” was his excuse, but Ned couldn’t help but wonder if Conor secretly liked seeing him in his jacket. 

It was a little too big, so it hung off of his small frame. And it very much clearly said “MASTERS” on it, so it was very obvious that it did not belong to him. But it was Ned’s favorite thing besides his own jacket. And he had left his in the dorm when they left to head to the hideout. Guess it was another Conor jacket day.

They go for another walk. Conor had gotten them breakfast so they didn’t need to head to the mess hall and Ned didn’t want to spend the rest of the day cooped up in the dorm, so they went out.

Conor takes him to a café that has special cookies that he knows Ned likes. They discuss the essay further. Ned had taken a notebook with him and was jotting down ideas. 

“So he gave us a title. The word was ‘lover’ and I’m not sure what to do,” Conor says. “What are you writing about, Ned?”

“Well, I can’t use a song so I’m going to have to write about a personal experience or a story then,” Ned looks up from his coffee to face him. 

Conor’s giving him that look again. The one that he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was a look of longing. Or just confusion. But he always looked at only Ned that way. Like he was going to ask him something, but he never does.

“Personal experience? Have you ever–”

Ned quickly stops him, “No. I haven’t. I guess this will be a challenging one. I don’t know what it’s like to have someone love –let alone like– me back. We’ll have to make something up...Wait, have you ever…?”

Conor raises an eyebrow, his eyes look even more pleading. 

“No. None of the boys were ever really....even then, I was always in so much trouble, even if they were, they wouldn’t like me. It’s hard to get close to someone,” Conor gives him one last look and then looks down in shame. 

Ned sits there in silence, deep in thought.

“Wait. Why don’t you find one now?” Ned suggests.

“I don’t know any other gay guys here–”

“Uh, hello? You live with one,” Ned pokes Conor’s shoulder and teases him by leaning in a little too close for just a second. “Why don’t we try it out? Just for the week so we can get some...artistic inspiration?”

He does a big gesture with his hand and Conor gives him his big gesture with his hand.

“Haha, fuck off with your artistic inspiration,” he deadpans, flipping him off.

“How badly do you need this grade?” 

“Oh, all right….” Conor sighs. “Is this our first date, darling?” He takes one of Ned’s hands from across the table and giggles as Ned gets flustered. 

When they get back to the dorm, Conor takes Ned’s hand and leads him to his bed.

“What are you doing?” Ned looks at him like he’s lost it.

“Well, if we’re supposed to be lovers, shouldn’t we share a bed?”

“Hm. Fair. But I got a better idea.”

When they finally push the beds together in the center of the room, Ned feels so tired from pushing that he collapses onto the mattresses. Conor follows.

“Y’know, dating you isn’t all that different from being your friend…” Conor says.

“What does that say about us?” Ned turned to face him.

“I don’t know,” Conor whispers. “Do you wanna go out again tomorrow?”

“I’d love to.”

This time, Ned fell asleep in Conor’s arms on purpose.

The next day, Ned takes Conor out for a picnic in the park. They sit on a blanket on a field with some food. The day is beautiful and the field has many beautiful flowers.

Ned and Conor pick some and they make flower crowns because Conor had learned how to in one of the books Ned had lent him. After, they made daisy chains and finally got to work as they lay on their backs to watch the clouds.

“All right, if we want to get this essay down right, we have to do all the things lovers do then, right, Ned?” Conor had no idea what to write. He was getting desperate.

“Hmm. How about the affectionate things?” Ned asks.

Conor went pale. “You mean like hugs and kisses?”

Ned giggled, “Yes, those things. You know, hand-holding and the like.”

When Ned leans in and gets into his space, he whispers, “Is this okay? Con?”

He had been calling him that for a while now. But even more so since they started “dating” and Ned had tried calling him cutesy names and they didn’t seem to work.

Conor decided to keep calling Ned “darling” since it suited him and he enjoyed seeing him flush red whenever he dropped it at the end of a sentence.

“Yes, this is good,” Conor muttered. He leaned in as Ned reached out to hold his face with his right hand and then hold one of Conor’s hands with his left hand. 

“Hand-holding. Check,” Ned said softly. He let go for a second to wrap his arms around Conor, burying his face in his neck. Conor felt so soft and his breath hitched.

“Hugs. Check.”

When they pulled away, Ned caressed his face again and whispered, “Are you ready for the next one, Con?” 

His eyes narrowed and he looked at him in a way that got Conor all hot underneath his clothes.

“Yes,” Conor sighed in relief as he touched the back of Ned’s neck and pulled him in for a chaste kiss. After they pull away for a second to look at each other, Ned grabs onto Conor’s shirt to kiss him deeper. 

Conor could only hear how fast his heartbeat and Ned’s quiet little moans as he kissed him. Then, Ned pushes him down and gets on top of him, kissing his lips, then his jawline, then all the way down his neck until he hears Conor moan as he bites him.

“Oh, don’t stop, darling,” Conor says.

“Not a chance, Con,” Ned says with an edge in his voice that gets Conor feeling some type of way. Like he needs Ned on him now or he’ll die.

They end up making out on the picnic blanket for about an hour until they decide to head back to the dorm and try out some more “things that lovers do” that were more suited for a bed in a locked room rather than a blanket in an open field.

Connor’s heart races as Ned pushes him against the door and kisses him roughly.

“God, I didn’t think you’d be able to push me around, darling.”

“Shut up, we both know you’re just as much of a twink as me, Con.”

Conor sighed into the next rough kiss Ned gave him as he started running his hands down his chest and pulling at his shirt.

“Are we gonna check something else off the list? Something more than what we did?” Conor teases him, caressing Ned’s face and tilting his head gently to look at him.

“I’m down if you are.”

“Then, get down.”

Not much writing got done that afternoon.

The rest of the week is pure bliss. With Ned, Conor feels like he’s at home somehow. And their affection did not go unnoticed by their peers.

“Conor, where’s your jacket?” Weasel asks when Conor enters the locker room.

“I don’t have it on me.”

“Why?” Weasel gives him a pointed look and sneers.

“Ned’s wearing it,” Conor said proudly.

Some of the boys let out a genuine “aww” – some of them were real softies he’d come to learn, and they were surprisingly really accepting and treated him like a brother.

“Well, tell your boyfriend that you need it back just for a photo.”

Ned makes a fuss about taking off his “favorite article of jock gear” and Conor turns around fast enough to hide his blushing. 

“I expect it back, Conor. Tell the boys that they can piss off for me, will ya, love?”

Conor’s out the door before Ned can see him turn red.

Later on, Conor didn’t know what to do. One of his classmates was currently pushing him against the wall of the shower and he was letting it happen. 

“Listen, not a word.”

It was a horrible secret. 

And it kept happening and happening for the rest of the week until he gets caught.

When he’s heading back to the dorm, the guy’s on him again, pushing him against the wall in the hallway, biting at his neck. He bites back a moan and then in the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar red head of hair.

Fuck. This was wrong. Even if they’re in a fake relationship.

Ned is gone as fast as he arrived. And Conor pushes the guy off, muttering, “Piss off,” as he walks in Ned’s direction. This isn't what it looked like. 

“Please, Ned! Wait!”

Conor catches up to him in the darkness of the campus. It was late and no one else was around, only the lamp posts illuminated the quad and it was just the two of them. 

“No. I don’t want to know. It’s none of my business,” Ned says coldly, still with his back toward Conor as he avoids looking at him. “Besides, whatever we have is fake, right?”

Conor doesn’t know what to say to that. 

Ned continues walking away from him as he calls back, “Just go back to the fucking dorm, Conor.”

He feels a pang of pain in his chest as he remembers when he said the same thing to Ned all those months ago when he was drunk and stupid and hating everything. 

And Ned disappears. Conor was left alone in the darkness, wishing that he had gone back to the dorm early tonight.

  
  


Mr. Sherry’s got on a very nice red shirt for Valentine’s Day. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day! Now, I have candy for all of you since you are one of the best classes I have ever taught! However, everyone must read a part of their essays.”

The boys groan as Mr. Sherry flashes a smile, holding up his bag of candy. Shit, now they all had to do it because he had a bag of the good type of candy, not the cheap shit in the vending machines or the garbage from the gas station nearby.

Ned volunteers to read first. As he gets up and avoids looking at Conor, who was obviously staring at him, he lifts his shoulders and gives Mr. Sherry a glance. 

Conor can see the bags under Ned’s eyes. He probably hadn’t slept that night. Probably disappeared to the hideout and cried so hard that he couldn’t shut his damn eyes. He hates how he was the reason why. And he holds his breath as he looks and listens to Ned start reading.

“You made us all title our essays, ‘Lover’, but I have a twist on it.”

Mr. Sherry does an excited little dance and nods. “Wonderful! Everybody listen.”

Ned takes a deep breath and starts:

_ “When you turn on the radio, all you hear are songs of love. Every element of it: from the pining and crushing to the aching and yearning, all the way until the destruction and desolation following heartbreak. I never thought that I would be able to understand or relate until now. ‘Lover’ is a very vague term, in retrospect, because it is not only gender-neutral, but it also invokes a deep connotation that other terms like ‘partner’ or ‘spouse’ lack. A lover exists based on feeling, not status, not officiality, not legality. A lover is supposed to be someone defined by emotion. Passion, regret, infatuation, longing. I didn’t know what that all meant. So I took a chance and made an effort to– but I failed. _

_ Or did he fail me? Did I run away because I was too afraid to know the truth or did I bail because I felt like I had seen enough, felt enough to know? My lover was never truly mine. He was just the loving idea of a lover, but he was just loveless in the end. No, I won’t wait for you. I won’t wait forever even though my heart is begging me to do so. Because it’s hard enough knowing that he will never admit if he really feels the same way. Maybe I was just the test trial of what a lover of his could be, would be. But I guess I wasn’t enough. So when I hear the songs of lovers through the radio, all I know is that I can finally interpret their words as the word of emotions, encompassing all feelings from lovesickness to heartbrokenness– words that not exist, but only be felt.” _

  
  


When he finishes reading his excerpt, Ned looks up to see that some of the boys were actually crying. Some had their heads down to hide it, but he could hear sniffles all around the room. Mr. Sherry starts the applause and pats him on the shoulder, taking his paper back and whispering, “Good job.”

Ned makes his walk back to his seat and gives Conor a quick glance. His eyes were intense and his heart was beating so fast. He slumped into his seat and faced forward.

Mr. Sherry tosses him some Pixy Stix and asks who’s next. Ned rips the end of a blue one and pops it into his mouth. He was probably going to ask for some more when class ended. Besides, he was going to talk to Mr. Sherry anyways.

Conor gets up to the front of the room and reads:

_ “I feel like I’ve been through life waiting on the answer to this question: could I ever have a lover? Actually, many questions. What would he be like? Would he stay with me despite everything? Because of everything? I used to long for someone I didn’t even know. Aching for the chance to even have a sliver of affection. Because I wanted the answer. The conclusion. But I wasn’t just going based on a theory. I was trying to disprove a law. One that ruled that I belonged nowhere. Maybe my lover never existed. Maybe neither did I. _

_ Wondering if I was even worthy of one. Waiting on the faintest idea of some semblance of confirmation that I was not. Either way, the answer doesn’t matter. It only matters that it went not unanswered. Losing myself constantly, attempting to erase how I longed, how I pined, how I ached for someone. Just torturing my heart and swearing against it. And I just allowed it to happen. Because it was what I knew. I know now that I can’t possibly know the answer. Because the lover I want isn’t the one I deserve. And he writes the words that tear flesh and break my heart into thousands of pieces until I forget that I had one in the first place. I may never get my answer, but I just wish for one from him.” _

**** Mr. Sherry’s passing around tissue boxes by the halfway point of Conor’s excerpt. 

The boys were so distraught that he cut off essay reading and just started passing the candy out. Jesus Christ. Literally all of the boys were crying. Except one.

Ned was just staring back at Conor. He slips out of Conor’s jacket and hangs it on his chair as he stands up.

Before he knew it, Ned had his bag in his hand and he was out of the classroom, walking back to the hideout. Not a word escaped his mouth as Mr. Sherry called out to him and Conor followed with his– no, Ned’s jacket in his hands. 

“I don’t want to hear it, Conor. I know how you feel. It’s not real. It was all just a bet. Fake! You don’t want me like that. I’m sorry, I’ll–”

“No. I’m not done. I don’t want you to go,” Conor takes Ned’s hand from behind and Ned turns around and falls into Conor’s arms. 

He holds him up and stares back with that pleading look.

“Just...please...listen. Don’t leave. It’s my fault.”

Ned looks up when Conor doesn’t let go. They’re all alone in the hideout. Time stops whenever they’re in there together. Like they were the only two people on the planet. 

After a few moments of just looking at each other, Conor hefts Ned over his shoulder and Ned doesn’t even protest. He’s done this so many times. When Ned falls asleep and they have to go back to the dorm. When Ned’s feet fell asleep after sitting too long. When Ned was particularly angry at Conor so he carried him up to calm him down. It was like Conor was a knight and he was rescuing the aloof princess from her own rage.

“I’m sorry,” Conor starts after he puts him down onto the couch gently. “He was forcing himself on me and I didn’t push away fast enough. I swear. And you’re not just a bet. I promise.”

Ned meets his gaze as he takes his jacket from Conor and slips it on, not saying a word to him.  _ Good, _ Conor thought.  _ He still wanted to wear it _ . 

Ned looks on expectantly. Conor gulps, then he continues.

“I never meant for this to hurt you. I just didn’t think that you felt the same...This past year has been the most exciting year of my whole life...because of you. Not because of rugby, not because of school. You. Ned...I want you too.”

Conor’s fidgeting again so Ned takes his hands like he always did. Ned rubs his palms, tracing the guitar string scars with wanting gentleness. He’s silent as he touches him, listening to his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing slowly relaxed from the touch.

His breath hitches as Ned lifts his head up slowly to look into his eyes. He says nothing as he lets go of one of his hands and caresses his face. It’s soft and Conor leans into the touch, hoping he would never let go. 

“Do you really mean that?” Ned finally says so quietly it’s like an exhale.

Conor does a small nod and Ned closes his eyes as he pulls him in for a kiss. 

It’s soft and slow. Conor sighed into it and he pulled at Ned’s tie and deepened the kiss. Time comes to a standstill. They’re actually kissing. 

Alone together. In their secret hideout. Like they were lovers.

They finally pull away and Conor lets go of Ned’s tie and puts his hands on Ned’s face, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Is that a good enough answer for you?” Ned whispered before he kissed him again and again and again.

“Guess we can check ‘Get into a row and make up’ off our list.”

They keep going out on dates and life is good.

“Wait, your boyfriend dropped something,” a voice says to Ned in another café.

“He’s not– oh, thank you,” he murmurs as he takes the wallet from the stranger.

Later on, Ned realizes that the boy had not been making fun of him when he said that Conor was his boyfriend. He had meant it as if it was an obvious fact. 

“Hey, Conor. Y’know it was kinda funny back there when you dropped your wallet. There was a guy there who thought you were my boyfriend. I noticed that he goes to our school. I just never seen him around.”

“Probably one of the band kids,” Conor mutters without looking up. “Also, what are you talking about? You are my boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, Ned! You’re wearing my clothes all around campus! The guys are jealous that their girlfriends refuse to wear their jackets while you’re never seen without mine!” Conor says as he turns to face Ned, who is blushing intensely. 

“What, darling, would you prefer I say ‘lover’?”

“Shut up!” Ned’s face heated up some more.

“Make me.”

Then, Ned pulls Conor’s tie down so that he can kiss his lover.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @rainbowrabblerouser


End file.
